Don't Wait
by naiad8
Summary: Not the normal FFNet time travel fic. Ron and Hermione SmutFluff, with a tiny bit of angst thrown in for good measure. Rated for sex and a bit of language.
1. Chapter 1

This is the rather short introduction to a piece that should be 3-4 chapters in length. Inspired by the work of Saint Rowling, patron saint of great fanfiction, and the novel, The Time Traveler's Wife, neither of which I own.

Don't Wait

It had been two months, one week and three days since Ron had last kissed her. If she thought about it, she could probably come up with the hours, minutes and seconds as well. It wouldn't be too hard, since she thought of little else in the precious little "free time" she allotted herself of late.

It was her own stupid fault that they hadn't done more. She wanted to wait. Or at least that's what she told Ron. She didn't think they should be distracted from their mission, from Harry. She hoped he understood how much she wanted him. But after two months, one week and three days of thinking about the one sweet, comforting kiss and the one intense, all-consuming, passionate snog that haunted her dreams, perhaps her sensible plan to wait a bit longer, after five long years of waiting for Ron, had been a bad idea. Now, all she could think of was him. That kiss on the train would have turned into something much more serious very quickly if Ginny hadn't have interrupted them when she did. Prim, proper Hermione Granger would have been complete happy to have Ronald Weasley ravish her on the floor of the Hogwarts Express. Or on the bench, or against the window…

Shaking her head to clear it of the vivid images of the two of them entwined, Hermione turned to the task at hand, trying to sort through the contents of the shelves in the back of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley to see if there were any useful additions to add to the Trio's arsenal. The Hufflecup cup was in the private collection of a very reclusive wizard in Brighton, thanks to the efforts of Mundungus Fletcher, and they had to retrieve it, somehow. Still, her eyes kept drifting across the same room to the broad expanse of shoulders and the longish copper hair that she ached to run her fingers through.

The shop was closed, just for them, and Fred and George had given them carte blanche to take whatever they needed. The three of them had flooed that afternoon, and Ron and she had disappeared in the backroom, leaving Harry alone in the shuttered front room with Ginny, who had snuck out of the Burrow to see him once Hermione had managed to get word to her of their plans. There were no sounds of arguing, as there had been a few minutes ago. The twins had sworn, under pain of the bat bogey hex, to keep to their flat over the store. Maybe Harry and Ginny were happily snogging. That would be wonderful, although Ron would probably not like to be witness to it.

Hermione wondered why she was so determined to get Harry and Ginny back together romantically, when she denied herself and Ron the same thing. Perhaps she was scared. Scared to feel too much, in case she lost in completely. Scared to want him so passionately.

There was a tremendous crash from the front room, and Ron looked up, his faster reflexes allowing him to sprint out of the door and into the front room before Hermione could move a step. By the time she dashed out, the curses were flying, two Death Eaters were already down, and Harry, Ginny and Ron were throwing hexes faster than a snitch could fly.

She crouched behind the counter and did her best. They held out for ten harrowing minutes, the twins running down from their flat and activating a dizzying array of booby-traps, until the shouts of aurors could be heard. The battered group of henchmen who attacked must have realized that they were soon to be outnumbered. Most of them fled, apparating away to face the wrath of Voldemort, but one determined masked spectre pointed his wand directly at her, screaming "_Vienata_" with what looked like deadly intent.

At the same instant, she brought up her wand with a shield charm strong enough to knock over a shelf of Patented Daydream charms. And Ron, sweet, noble Ron, threw himself in front of her, trying to block anything from hitting her.

The shield charm, the boxes of Daydream charms, and the strange Death Eater's spell converged on Ronald Bilius Weasley. And, as though he had been the victim of a shrinking charm he grew smaller and smaller, until he disappeared without a sound. She screamed, and Harry managed to hit the Death Eater who hit Ron with a stunning spell that would have brought down a troll.

The Death Eaters had all disapparated or lay unconscious. Aurors appeared, after the real battle was done of course, and started asking too many questions. The shop was in shambles, but hadn't been completely destroyed. No one was terribly injured. But Ron was gone, leaving only a pile of his clothes and his wand on the cold stone floor. Hermione sunk to her knees, and wept.

"He can't be gone….he can't be. I haven't told him yet."


	2. Chapter 2

I own nothing but my own plot bunnies and dreams. All thanks to JKR for her wonderful characters. I just like giving them a good time.

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He was dreaming. He was unconscious and in St. Mungo's and he must be dreaming. That would explain why he was standing, stark naked, in an unfamiliar bedroom. It was hot, and the window was cracked open, letting in some air and silver moonlight that lit the room with a soft glow. The room was cozy and inviting, and in the center of the room was a large, long four poster bed that he could have fit in comfortably. But he wasn't about to get into the bed. Well, he wanted to. But he didn't want to risk waking up the current occupant and have her find him naked.

Hermione Granger, the star of most of his dreams, lay on the bed, sweetly asleep and looking good enough to eat. She was wearing an oversized Cannons shirt, that looked suspiciously like it might have belonged to him, and as far as he could tell, little else. She tossed in her sleep, a frown marring her lovely features, her brown frizzy curls laid out on the pillows in a great wave. The shirt rode up with her movements, as she turned on to her side, and it revealed the luscious curve of her bum.

_Oh Merlin, she was gorgeous_. She looked older than usual; confident, sexy. Like she had grown into her body completely and it was completely hers. Her legs were long and lean. He could imagine them wrapped around him. He was uncomfortably aware of his nudity, and how his body's reaction to her state of dress could not be hidden. She was going to kill him when she woke up.

She was whispering, though her eyes were still closed. He walked a bit closer to hear her, wondering what she was dreaming about. "Ron!" She whimpered, and he thought his heart had stopped beating. "Yes! Oh….God…..more…" She writhed on the bed, and the shirt rose up to bunch around her waist as she flipped on to her back. He was gifted with a vision of the light brown curls dusting the junction of her thighs. He closed his eyes, swallowing hard.

It wasn't a dream. It was heaven. He had died, and this was his version of heaven. An eternity with a Hermione who lusted after him and moaned his name in her sleep. He opened his eyes. Or maybe it was hell, and all he could do was watch. Maybe he wouldn't be allowed to touch her, and he'd have to suffer a permanent painful erection. He crept to the side of the bed, and reached out a shaking hand, brushing against the creamy skin of her arm. She felt like warm silk, a fine layer of perspiration from the hot weather and her steamy dream making her skin slightly slick. He was so hard he thought he would explode.

Two months of knowing that she fancied him, knowing that she thought of him like he thought of her, had tortured him with endless possibilities. He had indulged in so many wanks to thoughts of her that he should be sore by now. But he only wanted more, and here was every dream he'd had of her laid out like a feast before him.

He bent over her, unable to resist, and pressed a light kiss to lips that he remembered in great detail. Before he could pull away, he felt a hand behind his neck, and those sensuous lips open under his, beckoning his tongue to come and play. It was very wrong to take advantage while she was dreaming of him, but since this was probably his dream to begin with, he thought he might as well give in and follow his instincts.

He ravaged her mouth and she ravaged back, with lips and tongue and teeth, nibbling and sucking and biting until he thought he would come from kissing alone. His whole body ended up on the bed, covering her small frame with his large one. By the time he opened his eyes while taking a break for much needed air, her eyes had opened and she was gazing at him with every bit of the lust he himself felt.

"Ron…more…" She wrapped her arms around him, and he got over his shock enough to return to kissing her passionately, running his hands over her bum as his lips traversed the delectable length of her neck. His cock was digging into her bare thigh, and he was so close to what lay between those thighs, that he could barely breathe. She smelled so good, like some kind of flower and a little bit of cinnamon, and she was moaning his name….

She went to wrap her legs around him, and he jumped back, eyes wide. She laughed, a throaty, sexy sound that he could barely believe had come from the prim, proper girl he loved. She reached down and pulled off the thin shirt, revealing incredible breasts that he had long suspected lived in hiding under her uniform, or robes, or the baggy jumpers she favored on weekends.

Blinking rapidly, he reached out to caress the pale curves that glowed in the moonlight. She arched up, meeting his hand and filling his palm with the softest, most wonderful flesh he could imagine. He stroked it, utterly captivated, and watched as her nipple tightened in response to his gentle touch.

"Please…stop torturing me!" she chided, and pulled his head down. He took the hint, however surprised he was, and decided that this was absolutely the best bloody dream/afterlife that could possibly exist. He captured the hardened nipple in his mouth, kissing it, licking it, and finally giving in to his urge to suck. He was rewarded for his efforts with a steady stream of panting moans, and her body rubbing against his frantically.

She was so tiny under him, for all of her passionate spunk. He was almost a foot taller than she, and part of him was afraid that he would somehow break her. That is, until she managed to push against him so hard that she managed to flip them over completely. She hovered above him, hands flat on his chest, and she bent forward, kissing him soundly.

"No, more teasing!" She gripped his erection, and he yelped, and before he could figure out how to use his voice to speak, she was sliding down on to him, and his eyes rolled back into his skull. He had to revise his opinion….this, this was officially heaven.

She let out the sexiest little moan, and she surrounded him completely, hot and wet and tight, and then….she started to move. He thought he would explode….and he wasn't supposed to…Bill…and Charlie…they said you had to hold on….to wait for the girl……oh Merlin, what is she doing with her hips?

She was sitting up on top of him, practically dancing, her warm brown eyes hazy with passion as she circled her hips and moved up and down his length. He was going to come….think of chess….Godric, she was sexy when they played and she nibbled her lips…..no, something else…Quidditch…she'd looked so good in that Cannons shirt…wonder how she'd look in the showers….no….he grunted, trying to hold on to some shred of control, gripping her hips to keep her from moving.

She laughed…that low sexy laugh that had driven him crazy earlier. And then she started bouncing faster and faster, and he couldn't hold on, he could feel the pressure building. Her breast were amazing, jiggling in front of his eyes. And he watched as she reached between them and touched herself, and his eyes widened and he exploded, yelling her name.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been twenty seven minutes since Ron had disappeared. Hermione had always been able to keep track of time perfectly, at least, if she wasn't distracted by thoughts of certain tall, blue-eyed red-heads. Her parents had thought it uncanny, and looking back, it was probably an early sign that she was a witch. Now, at seventeen, Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age, instead of being brilliantly insightful, or running to research an answer in books, knelt on the cold stone floor, her mind almost a blank.

She'd never gotten to tell him. Tell him that she dreamed of him; that she had imagined their children; that she'd almost hexed Lavender into being a boy; that too many times while studying in the common room, she had had to force herself to remember to turn the page she was reading so that he wouldn't know that she had been obsessively watching him nibble at a sugar quill with his beautiful lips. She'd never told him that she loved him.

It ran around in her mind in a vicious circle, filling the ocean of emptiness that threatened to drown her heart. She was a strong woman, she could handle more than most, but this was beyond bearing. Ron was gone. She could feel it. Harry had started ranting about Ron being taken by the Death Eaters, or some such thing, and Ginny had flung herself at the stunned Death Eater who'd thrown the strange curse, and though she could wring out the answer from his limp form with her bare hands. The Aurors had stopped her. Someone had tried to pull her up, to get her to leave; that the Accidental Magic Department was coming to have a look, to see if anything could be done, but she'd given them a glare so filled with ice that they'd let her be.

But Hermione couldn't stay still for much longer. It was against her very nature. She began picking up the lurid pink boxes scattered on the floor around her.

Patented Daydream Charm, Thirty Minutes of Undetectable Fantasy. Too Real to Be Believed. Pirate King Model.

She shook her head. The twins were absolutely brilliant. They probably would be richer than Malfoy within ten years, if they managed to survive. She stacked the boxes in a neat pile. Most were sealed. "The Pirate King". "The Desert Sheik". "The Knight in Shining Armor". Gods….Ron had been the knight for the chess match in first year. He would always be her knight.

Her mind recoiled, and she went back to the mindless task of stacking. When she finally reached the boxes nearest the pile of clothes, the pile she could not bring herself to look at yet, she saw these boxes were open, the charms activated. Four boxes; all of which must have hit Ron. She turned one box over, to see which model it was. "Romantic Night at Home."

She wondered briefly if she could open another like it, and escape for half an hour. What would she see? A romantic candlelit dinner for her and Ron? Or Ron, gloriously naked and sweaty, above her and around her and inside her, doing all those things she couldn't get out of her mind since she had gotten up the nerve last summer to read the copy of The Joy of Sex her parents had had on one of the bookshelves.

She picked up the other three open boxes, and they were all the same model. She wondered what Ron would have dreamed about. Snogging Fleur? Shagging Lavender? She sucked in air through her teeth, incensed at the thought. But, a voice, a little, self-assured, confident voice piped up, and its message was simple. He would dream of her. Plain, bushy-haired, Know-It-All, Hermione Granger.

Her memory dragged her back to the Burrow, to Bill and Fleur's wedding. There was dancing at the reception, and Ron had asked her to dance, running all the words together so fast that she had would have laughed if she hadn't been so nervous. And they had swayed together, staring into each other's eyes. And then he had pulled her along, down a path through the fairy-lit garden, across to the far side of the pond and a stand of tall trees. And, for the second time, he had kissed her.

She swore she could still feel her lips tingle. Lavender might have been a slag, but she had definitely taught Ron how to kiss. She felt as though he was eating her alive, and she wanted nothing for than for him to consume her, and to consume him in return. Their hands had been everywhere, he had nibbled on her neck, breathing her name as though it was a prayer. She had dared to lick his collarbone, wanting to taste the musky heat of him, and he had gifted her with a moan that had gone through her like lightening.

She had wanted him so desperately. His arousal had pressed against her hip and he crushed her to him, and she had imagined what it would feel like if the layers of clothes separating them had disappeared, and she could have wrapped her legs around him and he would enter her, filling her, driving into her while she pressed against the tree behind her. She was almost consumed with a heady mixture of desire and curiosity. She wanted to know the feel of his body against hers, and how this mysterious thing called sex really felt. How would that hard lump trapped between them look? How would it feel inside her?

For Hermione, the desire to know everything was only surpassed by the desire for Ron, for him and him alone. The combination of curiosity and the sure knowledge that he wanted her as much as she wanted him was so strong it had frightened her. She had felt like she was losing herself. She couldn't concentrate. She…they…both of them would be useless to Harry. They'd just lose themselves in each other, leaving Harry alone when he needed them the most. Killing Voldemort was more important than her love life, wasn't it?

So, she had torn herself away from him, and stamped down her reaction to the hurt look on his face and the blatant lust in his eyes.

"We have to wait Ron." She had stated, breathless after what seemed like hours of intense snogging.

"Wait? Well, of course we….I mean, I didn't think that we were going to…" His eyes bugged out, and his ears turned that endearing shade of scarlet. "Do you want to? Did you think that we were going to…"

"Yes…I mean, no Ron, I mean…" she had bitten her lip, swallowing the tears that had threatened to break through. "We have to help Harry, Ron. I…I don't think I can think clearly if we…if we are involved."

"You don't want me?" The pain in his eyes was heartbreaking for her, and she was quick to try and ease it.

"I want you, Ron." Her mouth had been dry, and her stomach flip-flopped in terror at what she was risking by revealing so much of her feelings. She had been so very close to admitting she loved him. "I think I want you too much. I….When it's over….When Harry's won….then…."

He had taken a deep breath, and stood a bit straighter. He had looked so mature, so much more a man than the boy she had known. He nodded slowly. "Then, I'll be yours." She had smiled, and it had taken all her willpower not to throw her arms around him and snog him senseless.

She regretted her control. Ignoring the attraction hadn't helped. She thought about him all the time, and she found him staring at her often enough to be quite flattered. Her dreams, when she could sleep, were filled with longing. And now it was too late. He was gone, and so was her chance at happiness, zapped into nothingness by some strange hex, the Daydream Charms, and her own shield charm.

Her tears were halted suddenly, as her brain seemed to kick back into gear. Maybe her shield had helped him? It hadn't shattered; rather it had been absorbed somehow, incorporated into the amalgamation of magic that had hit him. She glanced toward the downed Death Eater at the front of the store.

Six aurors surrounded him, and he was bound hand and foot. He was awake, and yelling, sputtering out something she couldn't hear but looked to be full of anger. Maybe they could get him to confess what the curse had been, or maybe they would get a clue where to start researching. She looked down again at the open box in her hands…what had these Daydream charms done?

She spotted Fred and George looking more dejected than at any point in her memory. Their shop was a mess, and their baby brother had disappeared, and Mrs. Weasley was on her way, most likely with murder on her mind. Hermione walked up to where they sat, perched together on one of the intact counters.

"What exactly have you got in these, boys?" She asked, in her best, no-nonsense voice.

They looked at her with a mixture of suspicion and sadness. Fred squinted at her, "And why, Miss Perfect Prefect, would you care about that…"

"…at a time like this?" George finished, folding his arms over his chest.

She huffed in agitation. "I want to know exactly what all the magicks were that Ron was exposed to. We may not know what that…" she pointed at the incensed Death Eater, who was throwing deadly looks in her direction with violent eyes, "…did to him, but I want to know what the effect of four of these Daydream Charms would be, and the magic that makes them work so well!"

"Ah ha! So, you did use that Pirate King sample that we sent you!" Announced Fred, his smile reappearing despite the seriousness of the situation. Hermione stammered a bit, a light blush staining her cheeks.

"Care to give us a testimonial? Tell us, did ickle Ronnikins make a good pirate? Or were you the one doing the rescuing?" George asked, with a devilish gleam that faded once he glanced at the pile of Ron's clothes still on the floor. George exhaled suddenly, and returned to serious business. "They have a bit of a Cheering Charm, and some Imagino enhancement charms to make everything more vivid."

Fred added to this, "There's a bit of a Subliminato charm with a whispered suggestion as to setting…"

"Like Muggle hypnosis then…." Hermione muttered, brow furrowed in concentration.

George and Fred shrugged, unfamiliar with the Muggle term. Hermione was insistent for more information, "Go on! There must be more."

"Not much, just the timer charms."

"Time charms? That's bloody dangerous, playing with time charms!"

George feigned shock unconvincingly, "Do my ears deceive me, or has Hermione Grange, rule-enforcer extraordinaire, just actually let a swear word pass her prim lips?"

"I think it's true. Why, Ronald must have rubbed off on her after all these years! Perhaps her lips are not quite so prim?" Fred dug his elbows into George's ribs.

"Enough! What were the time charms? And what would be the effect of four at one time?"

"They limit the effect of the other charms. Half an hour per box. What happened to Lee when he tried two at once?" Fred turned to George with the question.

George looked thoughtful, "He went unconscious on us, and wouldn't wake up to Ennervate. But then he started making some very interesting noises so we let him be. He woke up after an hour with a mess in his pants and a very pleased expression."

Hermione could help blushing. "I'm not sure I'll ever be able to look Lee in the face again, but does that mean that one box results in a dazed expression and inattentiveness for thirty minutes, and two results in unconsciousness for sixty?" She didn't wait for their nodding agreement, but began to pace, an expression of intense concentration on her face. "What would be the effect of four boxes? Would it be additive? Would you fall in a coma for two hours?"

Fred and George just gave another shrug. "We never tried it."

"Do you know how irresponsible you two are, selling these potent things without proper testing!" Hermione was geared up to go into full rant, taking out her rage and frustration on the two mischievous brothers, when they were saved by a timely interruption.

"Hermione?" Tonks asked quietly. "We might need some information from you with regards to our prisoner." She indicated the bound Death Eater with a shake of her pink curls.

Hermione was eager to help. "Anything, what can I do? Will he say what hex he threw at Ron? _Vienata_ isn't something I've ever read up on."

"Hermione, if you haven't heard of it, then I doubt anyone of us has. He won't say a word about it." She nibbled her lower lip, as though debating whether to say more. "He claims he's only here working with the Death Eaters out of a sense of vengeance."

"Vengeance? Against the shop?" Hermione glanced at the twins, who began to sputter in protest.

"No, against you and Ron. Apparently, they had no idea that you and Ron and Harry would be hear, and the rest of the group was merely assign to destroy the shop, due to Gred and Forge's blatant disrespect for You-Know-Who. But Pickvern, that's his name, once he saw that you lot were here, he wanted to make sure you suffered, even when the others fled. He claims you destroyed his life's work."

Hermione gaped, open mouthed, at a loss for words. "I have no idea…"

Tonks continued, "He was an Unspeakable, in the Department of Mysteries. He worked in the Time division."

"The bell jar!" She shivered at the memory of the Death Eater trapped in the time loop, how his head had aged and then grown younger. "That's it! _Vienata_, it's a time hex. Probably some kind of aging charm." She stared at the pile of clothes that had been Ron. Had he been regressed to a zygote? Or aged into a cricket, like the old Greek myth? Or had something completely different happened, as a result of everything mixing together?

Part of her longed to dash off to a library to find the answer, but this was not likely something to have ever happened before. It might be the only thing to do was to wait. And Hermione was not patient. Fortunately, neither was Ron.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks for the reviews. I appreciate all comments, though I choose to ignore the flames. This is smut, I make no excuses, other than I enjoy writing smut, and I am interested in the emotions that evolve in people during and after the activities partaken of within smut. If you are too young to read smut, or find it "gross" I suggest you stop reading. Now.

I own nothing. JKR is fantastic, and I hope to god she doesn't read this.

P.S. A few people have made guesses as to what the heck is going on. A few people are very close to being exactly right.

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His sanity returned as his breathing became less rapid. Usually, he would have woken up by now, with a raging erection and Harry throwing a pillow at his head from across the room and demanding he stop his moaning. Instead, he felt Hermione's warm body curled up against his side. He clutched at her with the arm he had unconsciously wrapped around her. They lay together, listening to each other's breathing. Finally, she rolled into him, propping her chin on his chest and looking up at him, the lingering evidence of passion still in her eyes.

"I love you." She said it easily, with breezy confidence; as though she had said it a thousand, no…ten thousand times before. His breath caught and his chest tightened with a mixture of happiness and fear, which showed on his expressive face. Before he could think of a reply, she laughed, that same throaty, sexy laugh that had driven him insane just a few minutes previously.

"Don't worry, Ron. I love it when you lose control. It's so rare. Usually, you make me beg you to come after you've driven me half mad with pleasure."

Oh Merlin, he was an insensitive git. He didn't know if she'd come at all, he been so caught up in the amazing experience of being inside of her. This dream, or fantasy, or whatever it was, was incredibly realistic, more so than any dream he'd ever had. Suddenly, he really wanted to make sure the experience was as mind-blowing for her as it had been for him, even if this Hermione seemed to think they had done this before…

"Teach me?" He asked, his voice squeaking slightly, and his eyes pleading with her to understand him without the embarrassment of having to admit his vast ignorance of how to please a woman. "Teach me how to please you?"

She rolled her eyes at him, the way she had at least once a day since they were eleven. It was almost erotic at the moment, given that they were both naked and basking in post-coital glow.

"Really, Ronald. I can't believe how much you like that game. But, since you are so very sweet, I'll humor you." She smiled, and rolled away, propping herself up on her elbows and staring down at him, arching an eyebrow. "Professor Hermione calls this call to order!"

Godric, she was sexy. He would never admit to his Hermione, the real world Hermione, how incredibly alluring she could be at the height of one of her Know-It-All lectures. His cock twitched to life just at the authoritative tone in her voice.

She looked down at his growing erection and smiled knowingly. "I can see that you are going to be an…enthusiastic student for once." She sat up straight, and he had to force himself to drag his gaze from her pert breasts to her warm brown eyes. "First of all, marks for your latest work. I would have to say an A for breasts," she cupped those two pale globes in her hands, and he forgot to breath in the face of such an erotic image. "As for kissing, I'd give you a very definite O." She bent forward suddenly, and pressed her lips to his quickly, pulling back before he could wrap his hands in her wonderful brown curls and capture her lips for a more complete snog.

"But…in other areas, I'm afraid you'll need a bit of revision." She took his hand in hers, and brought it to rest against the soft skin on the inside of her opposite elbow. "This is skin, Mr. Weasley. The largest organ on the body, and by far the largest sexual tool." He didn't think he could blush any more, but hearing those words come out of her mouth….Holy Merlin!

She didn't cease her lesson though, but continued with that tone of voice which perfectly merged instruction with teasing. "You can gently stroke certain key erogenous zones on a woman to achieve a high level of arousal. The elbow, knee, collarbone, neck and inner thighs are particularly sensitive, along with certain key points on the back."

Eronegos zone? Huh….never mind, best to just do it, rather than try to understand. "Can I try a practical application of this lesson?" He was amazed that his voice didn't crack or his cock explode given how hard he was. He didn't wait for permission, but brushed his fingertips along her elbow, up her arm to her shoulder, as lightly as possible. He could see goosebumps follow in their wake. He sat up, and brought his lips to taste her neck with soft kisses, reveling in the taste of her flesh and the feel of her hardened nipples brushing his chest. She sighed, which he took as a sign of encouragement that he wasn't a complete failure.

Continuing to kiss her neck, he moved his hands in teasing, feather-light circles along the naked skin of her back; he was rewarded with a soft moan. He clamped down on the part of him that wanted to push apart her thighs and bury himself within her again. He was determined to give her pleasure this time.

"How am I doing with the lesson, Professor?"

She took a deep breath, pulling away slightly. She swallowed. "Very…very well. A most promising student." She smiled wickedly. "Now, for an anatomy lesson. She leaned away from him, scooting back into the pillows and opening her legs, giving him a view that made his eyes burn with the effort not to blink, not to miss a microsecond.

"So, which shall we cover first, the clitoris or the G-spot?"

She must have expected an answer, so he blurted out, "Clitoris?" He vaguely remembered an odd conversation he'd had with George regarding this mysterious female part and its supposed uses. George had said that a girl could come multiple times if a bloke managed to find it and treat it right. Ron wasn't sure if this was true, or if George was having him on.

Hermione's flushed face seemed to indicate that perhaps it was true. "Good choice. You always find my G-spot better with your cock anyway." She gave him a devilish grin and his mouth fell open in shock to hear her use the word "cock" with such ease. Especially referring to him.

She grabbed his hand again, and brought it to the brown curls of her sex. She was still slick and wet from their earlier activities, with both her own juices and his. She was a jewel-like reddish pink, even in the moonlight flooding the room, and he completely lost the power of speech in the onslaught of the look and feel of her.

She took one of his fingers, and drew it along a fold of skin. "This is the labia minor, or small lips in latin. These lips like to be kissed too, perhaps in a later lesson?"

Conversations he'd overheard between Fred, George and Charlie seemed to make more sense now. He'd known that it was possible to kiss a girl there, but he'd been rather grossed out at the prospect. But now, surrounded by the scent of Hermione, and entranced by the smooth wetness, it sounded like the best bloody idea he'd ever heard.

She was moving his fingers again, and he could feel her shudder as he touched a hard nub of flesh amongst her folds. "That….is the clitoris. All the nerve endings of your equipment wrapped up in a much smaller space." He moved his finger against her hard, and she gasped. "Lightly! Lighter is better, at least to start." He obeyed, and her hips bucked against his hand.

"Hmm…good…very, very….good." She sighed as he stroked her. He looked up at her face, only to see her lick her lips, and feel a strong pulse of desire shoot through him. She was so beautiful. He was consumed by the desire to taste her, although he wasn't really sure how she'd react to it, or whether he'd be any good at whatever he was supposed to do. Should he wait for more instructions?

But "Professor" Hermione seemed to be in no condition to continue her lesson, as her head tossed from side to side and she began to pant. Going on instinct, he moved down the bed, still touching her. If he was unable to use words to tell her that he loved her, he'd damn well show it in his actions. Once in a good position, he replaced his fingers with his lips quickly, before he lost his nerve. She let out a gasp, and she might have muttered his name, but he couldn't hear, his entire being concentrated on the sweet, intoxicating taste of her, and the shudders he felt trembling through her as he gripped one of the hips in his large hand.

He licked, he nibbled, he sucked. He could feel her thrashing, hear her moaning his name. He could have done this for hours, despite the insistent throbbing of his cock. She became more and more frantic, swearing softly, until she was begging, filling him with proud satisfaction.

"More…I need….ohhh…."

He wasn't sure what she wanted, but she squirmed under him, and he wanted badly to give her whatever it was she needed. He was also filled with an overwhelming curiosity about that magical place where he had fit so well inside of her. Maybe that would help her?

He probed with a finger, looking for the entrance into her depths. When he found it, and thrust a single finger inside of her, she gave a happy shout, and he took that as a sign of approval, and added a second finger to the first. She pushed against his hand, and he tried to coordinate his hand, tongue and lips, while simultaneously exulting in the tight, slick heat of her passage and her obvious pleasure at his actions. He could feel her begin to shake under him, and her hands twisted in his hair, her legs clutched at his back where they were draped over his shoulders. She gave one last scream, and seemed to collapse a bit. He continued on, unsure if he was successful in bringing her to completion or a miserable failure, until he felt her pulling on his head. She tugged vigorously until he looked up at her.

"An O Ron! You've got your O. You'll kill me if you keep going Ron. Give girl a break between orgasms, please?"

He grinned in contentment. He'd done it! She continued to pull him toward her for a kiss, and he hoped that she'd enjoy her own taste as much as he had. The kiss was incredibly intense, and soon she was writhing beneath him, and he was very much aware that his cock was becoming more and more impatient for attention. Did she mean it that it was painful if she had another orgasm? Would she push him away angrily if he asked to come inside her again? She had felt so good….

She rubbed her hips against him, as if reading his mind. "Inside love, please? I need you again. Extra credit, I promise."

Oh gods….she was amazing. He poised above her, and guided himself to the entrance he'd found earlier with his fingers. He slowly entered, grasping at some level of control….but she wouldn't let him. She wrapped her legs around him, and he plunged deep inside of her. He groaned loudly, and she laughed and then he couldn't think anymore, only thrust into her mindlessly, aware only of the love that filled him, the unearthly pleasure of her wrapped around him, and her breathy moans. When she gave a bright scream and her muscles pulsed around him, her let go completely, allowing the stars trapped behind his eyes to burst in purple and white explosions, and the hot pleasure to pulse through his veins and into her. He fell on top of her, and rolled to the side, holding her tightly in the circle of his arms while he fell into unconsciousness.

When he woke, it might have been ten minutes or ten hours had passed. He'd no idea of the time when he arrived in his room, but now dawn was filling the sky, and a bit of it spilled into the room, though the bed was still in shadow. Hermione was nestled against his chest, and he had never been so happy. Although he'd have liked to know what Hermione would have looked like or acted like the first time she'd ever come for him, for it was obvious that this Hermione seemed to remember them doing things before. Still, he would be content sharing this life with her now and forever, regardless of how they had gotten here. He felt that there were no worries about You-Know-Who, or Death Eaters, or even NEWTs. Here, there was nothing but Ron and Hermione, together and happy.

"If this is a dream, I don't think I ever want to wake up." He whispered, his voice hoarse from his previous shouts of pleasure.

She hadn't been asleep. She looked up, and sleep and fear and anger mixed in her brown eyes. "Oh, you bloody better wake up…you can't leave me alone!" She sat up suddenly, wrenching herself away from him and scrambling across the bed toward the nightstand, snatching up her wand. She shook her head violently. "I'm not dreaming, am I? Who the hell are you?"

He was utterly confused? What was going on? "Hermione? It's me, Ron…." He made to move toward her, but she pointed her wand at him menacingly. Time seemed to slow to an agonizing crawl, as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

"You can't be…he's…." she stopped, and flicked her wand. "Incendio!" She cried, and every candle in the room lit, flooding the room with bright light. He blinked for a moment, and she gasped, a look of intense sadness and shock on her face.

"You…you're seventeen!"

"Yes, and so are you, last time I checked."

She shook her head and covered her mouth with her hand, tears filling her eyes. She was speechless.

He wanted to comfort her, but without warning his limbs felt leaden, immensely heavy, like some force had taken hold of him, and was dragging him away from her. He tried to struggle, but couldn't move. He tried to talk, but no sound came out. She must have realized something was wrong. Panic filled her eyes, and then, just as quickly, acceptance. His vision started to darken around the edges, and he felt like he was falling. He wanted to stay with her, he wanted to hold her, to tell her he would never leave her, to tell her than he loved her, but it was not to be. Instead, he heard her whispered words follow him into darkness.

"Don't wait to tell me….."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: So sorry for the long wait. I've been really busy with the holidays, and my toddler, and trying to get some other stories together to get on some other sites. Checkmated seems to hate my stories, and keeps denying them, which makes me really sad, 'cause I love that site. Thanks so much to all the readers and reviewers, you guys are all amazing.

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Hermione sat on the stone floor of the Twins' shop; cold despite the hot, muggy August weather in London. The room was surprising quiet, after all the activity of the last few hours. An argument between Harry and Ginny; a battle with Death Eaters; the Aurors scrambling everywhere, taking pictures, hauling the fallen Death Eaters to St. Mungo's or to holding cells in the Ministry; Mrs. Weasley yelling at the top of her impressive range, and then falling into desperate sobs, clutching the shirt that had fallen off of Ron when he'd gone.

Gone. Hopefully not forever. She swallowed. She'd shared her theory with Harry, who'd given her an odd look that said he likely thought she'd gone spare, but it had brought him out of the morose funk he'd fallen into, that he always fell into whenever bad things happened to people he loved. He'd offered to wait with her, but she'd shooed him off, telling him to comfort Ginny and Mrs. Weasley upstairs in the loft, where the Twins had taken the family. The Aurors were mostly gone, except for a few standing guard outside the repaired storefront window. Truly, it was amazing what magic could accomplish in less than two hours.

Two hours. It was one hour and fifty seven minutes after his dramatic disappearance. She promised herself that she'd wait until two hours and fifteen minutes had gone by, and then she'd go upstairs, or go back to Grimmauld and weep, or go home to her parents and let her mother hold her while she tried to find a reason to go on living. If she was wrong….and she probably was. It did seem so unlikely that the Twins' timer charms could somehow circumvent a curse thrown by an Unspeakable, but she clung to that hope anyway, willing it to be true. She had to believe that Ron was stuck somewhere living out some silly fantasy, rather than….any of the alternatives. If she was wrong, then…

What was that? The air in front of her seemed to shimmer a little, like a mirage in the heat. Was she just imagining it? Was she too desperate? Of all the times for the room to finally be empty….

She clutched at the folded clothes in her lap, running her hands over the faded Muggle jeans, and even…the underwear that had been left in the pile on the floor. Mrs. Weasley had made off with the shirt, but Hermione had gotten up the nerve to pick up the rest, touching them, wishing that she could get as close to his body as these garments. She'd blushed a bit when she'd picked up the underwear, thinking that she'd imagined very different circumstances in which she'd find out what he wore under his clothes. Simply white boxers suited him well, and let her imagination give her a much needed break from the incredible tension of waiting. Now, her nails practically tore the fabric as she gripped the clothes with considerable strength, willing the shimmering in the air to be real.

And then, something appeared, a tiny dot, that grew steadily in size while making a faint whistling noise in the quiet room, like a far away wind. Hermione forced herself not to blink, and held her breath while the shape became recognizably human, perceptibly red-haired, and undeniably Ron.

Time slowed as he floated horizontally a few feet off the floor, an odd look on his face as he reached out toward something that was no longer there, as though pleading with it, his blue eyes filled with a mixture of raw honesty and confusion. Then, with a soft pop, time seemed to speed up, and he fell the few feet to the floor, letting out an "Omph!" of pained surprise at the impact. He let out another "Omph!" as she tackled him, crossing the distance between them with a pounce that would have made Crookshanks proud.

He was here, and he was alive! Either she had completely descending into insanity, or this was the wonderful moment of her life. She covered his face with kisses inhaling the scent of him, the feel of his skin under her lips, the look of his eyes as he moved from confusion and disorientation to desire. His arms came up around her, and he clasped her to him, closing any distance between them as she held his face in her hand and kissed him with abandon. His lips tasted like heaven, and he smelled musky sweet, of sweat and something else…something that tickled the back of her brain with familiarity, but she couldn't identify. She was suddenly achingly aware that he was completely nude, and she was straddling him in a brazen fashion. Still, she couldn't bring herself to care about propriety at the moment, her heart filled with the immense happiness that was the existence of Ronald Weasley in her life.

They rolled about on the floor, and she felt his weight pin her to the stone floor, and felt the hardness of his body under her hands. She suddenly wished that her jeans were gone, that everything separating them was gone, and she let out a moan at the desire that pooled in her with that thought. In response to her sounds of longing, he broke away, passion and something else, something serious, lingering in the blue pools of his eyes.

"I love you."

She gasped, blinking at sudden tears. She had hoped…but it had been too soon….but then he was gone….

"I love you too." What else could she say but the truth? She could not stand to be separated from him another moment, and there was no use keeping up mythical barriers when they might be torn apart at any moment. She knew that she couldn't deny herself any longer.

He gifted her with an immense lop-sided grin, melting her heart with its lazy power. He was about to say something else, when there was a whistle from the doorway leading from the stairwell to the Twins' upstairs flat.

"Ah, Ronniekins, we wanted to see you, but not that much of you!" Fred announced, and Ron whipped his head around to look at the door. There were the Twins, both smiling widely, but with hands over their eyes.

"I could have gone another decade or two without seeing his naked arse, that's for certain." George added. Then, there was a shriek, and Mrs. Weasley appeared, pushing Fred aside in her eagerness to look through the doorway.

"Ronald Weasley! You get off that girl this instant! And where were you, I'd like to know? You gave everyone the worst shock." Molly Weasley ran across the intervening space as Ron scrambled up from the floor guiltily, trying to cover his nakedness, and in contrast to her angry words, she embraced her tall son with gusto.

Hermione got up slowly, her cheeks scarlet from blushing, and she looked intently at her feet so that she didn't have to look at any of the Weasley clan. Harry and Ginny came running after hearing Molly's shouts, along with Remus, Tonks, and several other Aurors. Soon enough, Ron was dressed, Mrs. Weasley having conjured up a screen of sorts to allow him a bit of privacy. There was a heady sort of joy in the air; that Ron was all right; that there was a bit of hope amongst all the pain and tragedy that had happened in the months and years past. Hermione was over the moon with happiness herself, although a little piece of her wished that everyone would have just left them alone a bit longer.

Soon, after the Aurors were satisfied that Ron was not a Death Eater in disguise, and the Ministry officials from the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad had finally arrived and given Ron a clean bill of health, the members of the Order, both old and new, went to have a bit of a celebration in Grimmauld Place.

Hermione had been heartily congratulated for her wisdom in figuring out what had happened to Ron when everyone else had given up hope. Harry spent a good deal of the time slapping Ron on the back and beaming, and the rest of the time clutching Ginny's hand, unwilling to be away from her for a moment. The Twins spent a good deal of time debating in loud voices which other curses might be circumvented by reacting with various products in their repertoire.

"I think that Canary Creams might be the perfect answer to the Incarcerous spell, heh Forge?" Fred said smugly.

"Absolutely, Gred. Just keep one in your mouth, and if someone tries to bind you up, just sprout feathers and fly away!"

A good deal of Butterbeer and Chocolate Frogs had been consumed, and Mrs. Weasley had tried her level best to get the Trio to return with her and Ginny to the Burrow, which had been put under Fidelius charm. Harry almost looked tempted, but had declined, and Ron had stood firm in his determination to stay with Harry.

He was equally firm in not saying a word about what he had experienced for those two hours he had disappeared from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, despite having the Twins offer increasingly larger bribes and resorting to slipping him some Firewhiskey while their mother wasn't looking. Hermione was equally curious, wanting to know what had driven him to say those magical words to upon returning. Had he meant what he said? Had he been under the influence of whatever he had experienced?

Her stomach twisted in knots with nervousness, and she tried to find a place to be alone, and resorted to picking up dirty plates from the drawing room and taking them down to the kitchen. She had just set a cleansing charm at them in the sink, when she jumped at the sound footsteps entering the kitchen behind her.

"I meant it, you know."

She closed her eyes, the sound of his voice warming her heart, and replacing her nervous flutters with and entirely different kind of fluttering. Desire pulled at her and she felt his hands on her hips, and his breath on her neck.

"I love you, and I don't think I'll be able to stay away from you. You told me not to wait."

She turned to look in his face, an unspoken question evident in her eyes.

"I dreamed of you, of us. At least…I think it was a dream. And you told me not to wait, to tell you how I felt." His hands still held her hips, and he pulled her closer to him, where she could feel how much he wanted her.

"Am I always so wise in your dreams, Ron?"

"You know you're brilliant, luv. How could you be any less in my deepest fantasies?" He arched an eyebrow at her, a playful smirk teasing her to distraction.

She licked her bottom lip and smiled back, hoping that she looked half as seductive as he did at the moment. "What else did I do in these fantasies of yours?"

He gulped a bit, and his ears turned red, and she laughed. She was surprised that the low, sexy sound came from her lips, and she was even more surprised when he pulled her hard against him, and crushed his lips into hers, taking her breath away with an intoxicating kiss.

When he broke this kiss, she was panting, her nipples taut, her knees weak with wanting him. He ran tiny kisses along her cheek to her ear, and then whispered to her, his breath sending delicious shivers down her spine. "You taught me everything I know about how to please a woman."

She gasped, stiffening in his arms as her eyes widened. His voice, his words, everything about him was manly, irresistible. She was shocked at how badly she wanted him, how she would let him take her against the kitchen counter in a moment unless she did something to back away.

He drew back to look in her face, and he misread her stark desire for something else. His confidence seemed to ebb away, and the stuttering boy was back. "I'm…sorry 'Mione. I didn't mean…I….I just didn't want to wait to tell you how I felt. I don't mean that we have to…I don't mean to rush you into anything…"

She brought her hands up to cup his face, and kissed him quick and hard, stepping backward, away from him and leaving him blinking in confusion.

"I don't want to wait too long either, Ron." She said in what she hoped was a low, sexy voice. "Still, I think I need to do a bit of research first."

The confident smile of Ron Weasley, the great prat, was back. "I don't think you can learn this from books, 'Mione." He stated with certainty.

Little did he know. Still, that's not what she had meant. "Oh no, Ron. I was simply thinking that if _I_ taught _you _everything about how to please a woman, then I need to find a reciprocal teacher to learn how to please a man."

She sauntered past him and out the door, her ear strained to know when he stopped mulling over what she had said and chased after her. It didn't take him long, but she was already back in the drawing room when he showed up, eyes wide, and panting with either exertion or indignation. She gave him a half smile, and relished being able to tease him again, when she had thought him lost to her. Whatever the outcome of this new round of their game of teasing, she knew that it would be different, ending in a deeper connection between them no matter who won.

He smirked back at her, and waggled his fiery eyebrows, and her stomach fluttered again with pangs of desire. Neither of them would sleep much that night, whether they were in their own beds and thinking of each other, or together and acting out their fantasies. Ron didn't say another word to her, but walked across the room, getting into a debate with Fred and George over something or other.

She had a sudden flash of what he would be like when he was older, more confident, able to hold his own with the best and brightest of the wizarding world. She wanted to be there at his side to see him and his sexy smile, and she knew he would make them a wonderful life together if the world was free of Voldemort once and for all. No matter what happened, she believed that somehow, he would always come back to her, and that knowledge filled some quiet corner of her heart, giving her the confidence and courage to face whatever the next months of struggle would bring.

A/N: No, this is not the end, we still have to find out what really happened…..one more chapter to go


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Much thanks to my beta, gwen1170, who fast and wonderful!

Seven years, five weeks and four days after Ron's disappearance

Professor Hermione Granger-Weasley refrained from pinching the bridge of her nose to fend off the oncoming headache, and attempted to listen courteously to the question that Miss Rachel Persdon, third year Ravenclaw, was posing to her on the methods for Transfiguring gerbils into silver snuffboxes versus mother-of-pearl snuffboxes. Class had ended some fifteen minutes ago, and lunch hour in the Great Hall had already started, but Miss Persdon was very dedicated, although others of her class might have called her every bit the Know-It-All that Hermione herself had been had a similar age, Hermione tried to tap into her diminishing well of patience to treat the girl well and laud her for her desire to know.

"Miss Persdon, I think you have an excellent grasp of the subject, far in advance of your classmates. You should have no worries regarding this bit of magic at all." Miss Persdon smiled enthusiastically and opened her mouth for another question, but Hermione cut her off quickly. "Remember, Miss Persdon, to be in top form for accomplishing your goals, it is necessary to take care of your body as well as your mind. I suggest you head down to lunch with your friends. I'm sure Mr. Sweeton would miss you if you neglected to appear."

Rachel Persdon blushed becomingly, and made a hasty retreat. Hermione smiled, remembering days when Ron could make her blush with equal parts embarrassment and longing at the mere mention of his name. Her words to Miss Persdon echoed in her head, forcing her to remember that her bodily needs were for more than just food. Her body still throbbed at the memory of last night. She should feel guilty, she supposed, taking pleasure with a man who was not her husband, at least, he hadn't been yet…

God, but the whole thing was confusing. Still, she had needed him desperately; after having fallen asleep wearing her husband's shirt and crying in misery, part of her having given up hope that he would ever hold her in his strong arms again. When she was at her lowest, he had managed to find a way to come to her. And now, it was time for her to go to him.

She opened the door to her office, crowded now with two desks and the fireplace, and exchanged a smile with Ted Tonks, who was preparing for afternoon classes. She was very grateful to him for stepping in at the last minute and taking half of her teaching load so that she could spend her afternoon at St. Mungo's. That had allowed her to keep her position as the youngest Transfiguration professor in six hundred and fifty three years. Teaching also allowed her to focus on something other than worry and grief.

"How are the Lupins doing, Ted? Have you seen Dora and Remus lately?"

The amiable brown haired Muggleborn gave her a huge grin at the thought of his daughter and her husband. "They're doing well. They brought Reggie and Linda over for tea just this last Sunday. Reggie takes after his da, already reading books that he shouldn't be able to until he comes to Hogwarts, and he's not even seven yet!" He beamed with pride, and Hermione smiled politely in response. A bit of her ached though, the part of her that longedr for little red-haired children of her own.

Ted sobered a bit, as though he knew what she was thinking. "You get going now, dear. Your young man is waiting." Her eyes teared up a bit and she nodded, cursing herself for continuing to be an emotional wreck even though she'd had weeks to learn how to cope with the raw emotion bubbling inside of her. For almost two months, she'd tried to shut off her sadness, to take each day one at a time, rather than think about the future, but the strain and worry were starting to catch up to her as she began to fear that she would be spending the rest of her life alone, her husband a victim of a powerful series of hexes while leading an Auror raid.

She took a pinch of Floo powder, and with a dash into the green flames of her office fireplace, she was in the lobby of St. Mungo's. The attendants and Healers knew her on sight, and gave her polite nods of greeting as she made her way to the Spell Damage ward. She stopped for a moment as she felt a brief but intense pain in her lower abdomen, but she continued down the hall, reminding herself that she really needed to eat more often. As she approached his doorway, she looked in and listened for a moment as the current visitor spoke to the man lying unconscious on the hospital bed.

"Sirius said, 'I want Daddy' today, just as clear as you please, already in competition with James' sentence from last week, which Harry swears was, 'Me see Quidditch!' They're going to put Fred and George to shame, I'm certain!" Ginny bit her lip, and ran her hand across the unwrinkled brow of her brother. "When you wake up soon, you'll be shocked at how much you've missed, but I'll tell you something, brother dear, that I haven't even told Harry yet. You'll get to see those missing moments with the next one soon!"

"Oh, Ginny, really!" Hermione couldn't hold back her exclamation.

Ginny jumped in surprise. "Hermione!" Her eyes rounded in shocked expression, "Promise you won't tell Harry that you knew before he did!"

Hermione pursed her lips, "Only if you tell me how far along you are!"

"Only about six weeks, I think I knew almost immediately though." A hand drifted to her abdomen, and Hermione felt a jab of jealously and sorrow. Even if Ron woke up, she would never know the joy of having her love's child growing within her. Ron had taken some nasty hexes during the Final Battle, and some scars hadn't shown up for years. Her morose memory dragged her back to the day, more than a year ago, when the Healer they had visited had explained that magic could not undo the damage done. Although he could function, and function well, in every other….capacity….as a husband, Ronald Weasley could not have children. Adoption was rare in the Wizarding world, and unless a Muggleborn was identified in an orphanage somewhere, neith she nor Ron had felt it would be fair to rear a Muggle child when there would be no chance of it being part of their parents' world.

"Are you all right, Hermione?" Ginny's question cut through her reverie.

She gave Ginny what she hoped was a bright smile. "I'm sorry Ginny, I'm just tired. It's wonderful news though. I'll be a very proud Auntie, and we'll….I'll watch Siri and Jamie anytime you need a break."

Ginny nodded, her eyes growing shiny. "Thanks for the offer…but for now, you need some rest, Hermione. I remember I couldn't sleep much at all, when Harry was in here after Tom was killed. I don't think I could really sleep well again until he could hold me as I fell asleep." She blushed a bit at that, but Hermione just smiled, the sentiment very familiar. Ginny had held out hope that Harry would awaken after his defeat of Tom Riddle even when others started to fear he would never regain consciousness. Her faithfulness had been rewarded handsomely, with a happy marriage, two beautiful children and another on the way, and a lovely house in Hogsmeade where she wrote books, and Harry could come home everyday after a hard day teaching Defence at Hogwarts. Hermione only hoped that she too would be able to keep her hope alive, and that she and Ron would still be happy together someday. After his visitation from the past last night, the magnitude of what she was missing had slammed into her with a harsh fierceness, pulling her hopes down around her.

Ginny rose gracefully, leaving her seat to her sister-in-law. "I'll be going now, Hermione. I've got to pick up the twins from Mum before they manage to tear the Burrow down by the rafters." Ginny gathered up her cloak and bag, and Hermione sat down, staring at the pale freckled face of her husband. Ginny paused at the door as she left, and turned back slightly. "I swore I felt him grip my hand today. I know you'll think I'm crazy…"

"It's possible, Ginny." Hermione cut her off. "Ron…Ron will always find a way to come back to me." Ginny nodded solemnly, and closed the door behind her, leaving Hermione alone with Ron.

She smoothed back the tangled fire-red hair that was becoming overgrown with the weeks in the hospital. Hermione was almost glad, as she had missed running her fingers through its length when it had been an efficient buzz cut since the start of Auror training some five years previously. She had missed how it felt in her hands when they had first made love. The night before flashed into her mind, and a mix of guilt and elation flooded her.

When she had awakened from a fitful sleep after his return to the past, she briefly smiled at her vivid imagination. Then she inhaled, and she could still smell him on the sheets, on her skin. She realized she was naked, and the stickiness between her thighs was not likely to be the result solely of a vivid dream.

She reached for a long-fingered hand, and whispered, "You never told me that it had been more than a dream for you, love." She lifted her other hand to his jaw, feeling the rough hairs of his five o'clock shadow against her palm. His disappearance in Fred and George's shop so many years ago, which had led to breaking through all the idiotic boundaries keeping them apart, was now fully explained. He had been thrown into his fantasy of a night with Hermione, true, but he had also been transported to part of his own life, years in the future, for the time period allotted by four of the Daydream Charm boxes. The Vienata curse had been thwarted, and somehow, Ron had found her when she had truly needed him. She just hoped that he would find her again.

She lay her head down next to his on the bed, and closed her eyes, whispering to him. "I suppose I should have been more suspicious of how very good you could make me feel the first times we made love. I don't think I wanted to know whether or not you had done anything with Lavender. And then how you always want to play that game where I "taught" you how to please me. Did you know that it wasn't a dream, or did you simply like to relive that memory?" She smirked at him, and was shocked when she received a hoarse chuckle in response, and felt a puff of dry stale breath on her cheeks.

"Both." His voice was cracked, but it was there, and her eyes flew open to the sight of deep blue irises focusing blearily on her face.

"Ron?" She asked, her voice shaking with suppressed hope.

He tried to speak, but instead began a coughing fit. Hermione rose to run for a Healer, but Ron wouldn't release her hand.

"Love you, 'Mione. Always come back to you."

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Fred and George teased Ron mercilessly about his remarkable prowess and powers of recovery, when, some nine months later, Hermione gave birth to twins. But they were delighted, if mystified, when it was revealed that the twins' names were Arthur Frederick Weasley and Sarah Georgina Weasley. Hermione would say nothing about why she would agree to name her children after her infamous brothers-in-law, other than to comment that at times, they really knew how to be…charming.


End file.
